In the Side Pocket
by Syrinx
Summary: Ororo. Logan. A pool table.


Title: In the Side Pocket  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Don't own the X-Men, and I honestly don't want the responsibility.  
Summary: Ororo. Logan. A pool table. Did I forget something? No, I didn't think so. :)  
Notes: Yeah, I guess this fits under movieverse. We'll put this somewhere after Logan comes back, just for fun. This is only a shameless attempt at bringing a pool table into a Logan/Ororo story. 

  


Ororo Munroe glared at the expanse of green felt as she grabbed the blue chalk, rubbing it over the tip of the cue stick. She scanned over the table, taking note of all the heavy balls, fishing out the easiest one to knock down into a pocket. Finally, she slammed the chalk back onto the edge of the table and leaned forward, swinging the cue stick into both hands, sliding the tip through her fingers, taking aim.

A cracking sound echoed over the music as the seven ball sped toward the a corner pocket, falling in. Ororo straightened and looked around again, spotting the eight ball in a compromising position. She leaned forward and delivered a swift blow to the white ball, forcing it against the black, gliding down the other side of the table, tumbling into the opposite corner hole, leaving only the nine ball, innocently placed next to the side pocket.

Ororo turned and lined herself up, hitting the cue ball with enough force to send the nine ball hurtling across the table, landing hard in the side pocket. She smiled to herself and pushed away from the table, grabbing her beer and taking a swig, whirling to look around the empty rec room, to the stereo pumping loud music she didn't know.

"Didn't know you played pool," Ororo heard a deep voice rising above the music.

"I do," she responded, turning around, laying the stick on the table, taking another drink of the beer.

"Didn't know you drank beer, either."

"I don't believe you know much about me, Logan," she answered, walking around and plopping down in one of the leather chairs, crossing her legs and looking up at him as he walked into the room, looking around him. His gaze settled on her. 

"My beer," he said, recognizing the label. 

Ororo glanced at the bottle and shrugged, looking back at him. "I assumed it wouldn't be missed."

Logan looked around the room again, turning to frown at Ororo's figure. "What's going on here, 'Ro?"

"Nothing much," Ororo answered. "Listening to music, playing pool..."

"Drinking beer," Logan finished for her as she smiled, lifting the beer up in a silent salute to him, then throwing it back to swallow another large gulp.

Logan chuckled, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on the couch, looking around him with interest, running his hands through his windblown hair. Ororo regarded him quietly, knowing he had just come from the road on his motorcycle, the wind tearing through his dark hair. The thought of such a scene sent a chill running down her body, making her glance down, putting the thought to rest as quickly as it had risen.

"My only question here would be why you're down here doing this," Logan asked, leaning against the pool table, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking at her expectantly with dark eyes. 

Ororo took another drink and stood up, walking over to the table. "This is the basement, Logan," she reminded him. "I'm not disturbing anyone."

"I don't care about that," Logan said, his gaze hot on her as she pressed up against the table, grabbing the cue stick. "I wanted to know why. I've never seen you do this before."

"No offense, Logan," Ororo responded without looking at him, picking up the chalk and inspecting the stick. "But you haven't known me all that long."

"All right," Logan raised his hands. "This just doesn't seem so...refined."

"You think I'm refined?" Ororo asked, suddenly looking up, her ice blue eyes cutting.

"Yeah," Logan said bluntly. "Refined."

Ororo nodded silently, rubbing the chalk over the stick, one eyebrow raised regally. "Maybe so," she conceded after a moment, setting down the chalk, glancing at Logan. "I'm still allowed to shock people once and a while, aren't I?"

With that she tossed the cue stick at him, a small smile appearing on her mouth at his shocked look. He caught the stick deftly and looked at her, a multitude of questions in his eyes. 

"Want to play, Logan?" Ororo asked, walking past the table, picking up another stick from along the wall, turning around to look at him.

Logan twisted the smooth wood in his hands, not knowing what to think of this. He was liking it though, and he decided it was time to push the bounds.

"Yeah," he replied gruffly, walking around the table, leveling his gaze on her. "What do you suggest we play?"

"Nine ball," Ororo said, not looking at him, but at the table. "Is that good for you?"

"Great," Logan replied, beginning to pull out the balls, tossing them on the table thoughtlessly. 

"You want a beer?"

"Huh?" Logan asked, looking across the table at her. She smiled.

"I'm out," she said, displaying the empty brown bottle.

"Yeah, sure," Logan growled, watching her walk off to the small fridge by the bar, pulling out two beers. She came back, handing him his beer, twisting the top off of her own with an undignified wrench of her wrist, tossing the metal top on the side of the pool table. 

Logan observed her suspiciously, not willing to get lured into whatever game she thought she was playing. She set the balls up, leaning over the pool table, sticking the tip of her tongue between her lips in concentration. His eyes wandered over her face, through her icy white hair, discovering the sharp v neck shirt she was wearing and finding that he suddenly couldn't pull his gaze away. 

When she finally had the balls set up perfectly, she rolled the cue ball to him, pushing off the table, abruptly snapping him back to the present. "Your break."

Unfazed, Logan reached out and stopped the ball quickly, wrapping his rough hand around it and bringing it in front of him, not lifting his gaze from her face. She smiled at him, leaning against the table, lifting the beer bottle to her mouth as he aimed, delivering a shattering blow to the cue ball, watching it speed across the table and collide with the group of brightly colored balls, scattering them in all directions.

Ororo raised an eyebrow, watching the one ball fall into a pocket. 

Logan glanced up at her and gave her a grin of flashing teeth. "You sure you're ready for this, darlin'?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Ororo was quick to respond, raising the beer to her lips. "Still your shot."

Two games later, Ororo leaned across the pool table, trying to hit the nine ball to end the third game. They were running even so far, and her shot could put her in the lead. She frowned at the two remaining balls, the cue and the nine, lining them up as best she could. She took her shot and winced as the outcome didn't quite play out how she wanted. Instead of sending the nine ball into a pocket it was now resting in the middle of the table, sitting firmly as though mocking her efforts.

"Nice," she heard Logan's deep growl from across the vast sea of felt. She frowned at his smirk and pushed herself off the table, feeling the dull sensations of the felt against her palm. "I think you may have the slight advantage, Logan," Ororo said, picking up her beer. "I am not as adapt to alcohol as you."

He smiled, shaking his head as he surveyed the table. "Getting drunk ain't a smart thing for a woman like you, darlin'."

Logan leaned over the table, lining up his shot as Ororo glared at him. She took a large gulp of the dark beer and swallowed, feeling warm from the alcohol, feeling checked power sizzling through her, dulling under the fuzzy effects of the beer. 

"I did not ask for your opinion," Ororo snapped, narrowing her eyes at Logan from across the table. He looked up at her, surprised, and leaned back.

"It's just a fact, 'Ro," he said, watching her carefully.

"Do not call me that," Ororo demanded, crossing her arms defensively. 

He laughed and shook his head, leaning against the table, spreading his hands against the hard wood. "Okay, Ororo," he paused, watching her like a hawk now. "Tell me truthfully. Why are you down here?"

"I told you, Logan," Ororo began, but he cut her off with another hard laugh.

"Oh no," he rumbled, squeezing his hands against the wood, feeling the polished grains against his fingertips. He could smell her, and it was sweet. Alcohol mixed with a tingling scent, something he could never quite place, and the thinking about it made him crave the smell only more.

She observed him warily, glancing quickly at his set face and down at the beer in her hand. 

"Tell me straight out," Logan said, demanding it. Yet she refused to give.

"Wouldn't have anything at all to do with Jean and Scott's anniversary?" He asked, smiling at her shocked expression. He had hit the nail right on the head.

"Goddess, Logan," Ororo groaned, turning around and setting her empty beer bottle on the counter behind her, noticing the row of bottles lined up there with mild surprise. "Not everything is that simplistic."

"Really," Logan asked, frowning at her and setting the cue stick down. 

"Really," Ororo shot back, moving away and heading to the bar to get another beer, opening up the fridge and finding that they had downed them all. She sighed and slammed the fridge door shut, turning around and heading back to the table, where Logan was, leaning against the side with a smug look on his face.

"Okay," Ororo challenged, stopping in front of him. "What about you, Mr. Logan?"

He smiled at her slurred words, crossing his arms in front of him. "What?"

"Doesn't it bother you? You who are obsessed with a woman that you know you can't have. Is that why you went out tonight? Was it because you didn't want to see them leave for their celebration?"

He frowned at her and uncrossed his arms, firmly placing them on the table. Instead of answering, he fired another shot her way, his voice louder so he could be heard above the pumping music. "Are you down here with the music cranked to the highest level because you don't want to think of those two upstairs tangled up in their sheets?"

"I am not jealous of Jean," Ororo snapped, taking a bold step forward, forcing her head up to look into Logan's face. 

"Maybe not," Logan answered tauntingly, "but I'm damn sure you're jealous of what she has."

The game of pool was lost. Ororo took another step closer, swaying just slightly, tipping her head further to see him in her blurred vision. "Why should I be jealous?" She asked, a dangerous glint in her dilated blue eyes.

"Because she has everything you want," Logan said simply, leaning forward, letting his eyes drift down her body slowly, taking her in all at once. She stood before him, a confused frown on her lips, then she let him have it.

"I do not believe you have any room to talk," Ororo started, shaking her platinum hair, crossing her arms over her chest, making his eyes drift down to her v-neck shirt. "Don't you hate Scott for a reason, Logan? Don't you pine away after Jean constantly? Didn't you come down here instead of going to your room, which, I might add, is very close to theirs?"

He could hear her talking, and her words were even somewhat registering, maybe making him see a slight shade of red, but he wasn't exactly paying attention. He would've been lying to himself if he had come down to the rec room just to watch late night television. They both knew the other was right. Seeing Jean with Scott made him irate, but he knew, in the back of his mind, where he didn't go often, that he couldn't have Jean. Then there was Ororo, still proving her point very well by sliding up closer to him and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she paused to stare at him.

"What are you looking at?" She finally asked, putting her hands on her hips, nearly falling down. He reached out without thinking, pulling her up and closer, her scent tumbling over her, over his arms and to his nostrils, making the claws in his hands suddenly ache to be free.

"I was looking at you," Logan answered honestly, only receiving a laugh from her, who seemed content to let him hold her up against him. Her ivory hair fell over her shoulders, a few locks getting in her face, and he moved to push them away from her bright, aquamarine eyes. Her laughter halted suddenly, being replaced with an almost sultry look as she gazed up at him. 

"Why is it that you've never looked at me like that before?" Ororo asked, turning warm under his hot eyes. 

"Because I never knew to look," he answered, catching the back of her head in one hand, twisting her thick white hair through his fingers, the other firmly holding her against him. In a swift movement, he lowered his head to hers, brushing his lips over hers softly before she ripped back, eyes wide.

Out of no where, her hand connected with his cheek, turning his head slightly to the side.

"What was that for?" He asked, shocked.

Ororo shook out her hand and stepped closer again, weaving her fingers through his wild black hair. "I was always here, Logan." 

With a deep growl, he pulled her to him, capturing her mouth roughly as she surged forward, pressing herself up to his body. He could feel the hard side of the pool table pressing against him and in one motion he picked Ororo up and turned them around, setting her down on the side of the table, still kissing her hard. 

Ororo pushed her hands through his hair, holding herself to him fast, wrapping her long, jean clad legs around his hips tightly as he ran his hands up her waist, bunching the material of her form fitting shirt and exposing skin. 

She let out a small moan as he deepened the kiss, then broke free, moving down her neck to kiss her collar bone lightly, smiling against her skin as she leaned back, her hair cascading behind her. He came down to the v-neck of the shirt and, with a strangled snarl, lifted the entire shirt, pulling it off her in one swift movement. He could feel the metal blades in his arms itching to move as he ran his hands over her heated skin, feeling her tremble against him as she pushed herself up, grasping the bottom of his own dark shirt and pulling it up. He lifted his arms and helped her pull the offensive article of clothing away, depositing it next to her dark blue shirt on the floor as she ran her fingers up his chest. She let a smile sweep over her lips as he suppressed a small groan. She smoothed her hands over his torso, letting them crawl back into his hair and drag his head down to her's. 

He nestled one hand up in her hair, tangling it in the mass of white, while the other freely roamed down to her hip, testing her carefully as she scooted closer, sliding her tongue over his lips, tasting him eagerly. 

She jumped as both claws slid out of his hands, shining off the rec room lights, bringing another rush of warmth down her body as he kissed her, pushing her further onto the table. The claws slid back into his hands just as suddenly and he let out a hoarse groan, lifting her up again and setting her down on the felt, pushing himself up on top of her, crawling up her body, stopping to taste her skin along her stomach, over her white lace bra. She sucked in a breath as he undid the front clasp, his eyes flickering up to her face before he kissed his way up to her throat, resting both hands against the felt on either side of her head, holding himself just above her. 

He paused there for just a moment, watching her, breathing heavily. She was prickling with electricity, running her hands down his stomach to grasp the heavy leather belt around his waist. He smiled at her breathless face, pushed the stray white hair from her forehead and looked into her deep blue eyes. 

"God, you're beautiful," he uttered gruffly, and she stopped, smiling up at him. 

Pushing herself up, she met his mouth with her's, pulling him down on top of her, rolling over in an attempt to shed their jeans, nudging the nine ball into motion. Quietly, without notice, the colorful ball slipped over the green felt surface, wheeling out from under them, and tumbled with a dull thud into the side pocket.


End file.
